


never doubt your boss (unless he's being an arsehole)

by all_their_intricacies



Category: Tenet (2020)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Ives swooping in with the rescue, Kidnapping, M/M, Original Character Death(s), POV Outsider, The Protagonist being an Idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26999065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_their_intricacies/pseuds/all_their_intricacies
Summary: Neil was kidnapped, and they were given one very clear consensus:“One hour, is all you get. A second later, and he dies.”
Relationships: Neil/The Protagonist (Tenet)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 127





	never doubt your boss (unless he's being an arsehole)

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this anon](https://iamtheprotagoneil.tumblr.com/post/631911499212914688/i-had-this-weird-dream-that-sator-had-some) on tumblr, who had a dream induced by my own meta/fics about protagoneil lmao. this was one heck of a piece to write, my friend. hope you enjoy <3
> 
> since the topic of this fic is a bit heavy, please peep the tags before venturing further down, gang. let me know if i missed anything. thank you.
> 
> // title is a suggestion from my dearest chris (aka [percivlgraves](https://percivlgraves.tumblr.com/) on tumblr; aka [Sigismonda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigismonda) on ao3), who also beta’d this fic for me. they are literally the best.

First, it began, quite simply, with a phone call.

Ives was sitting on the couch in the Boss’ office, reading through a piece of document about the mission they were set to go on in less than thirty hours. It was pretty last minute, yes – for Tenet’s standards – but there were still a few elements that needed to be ironed out, needed to be worked through to the point of perfection. Everything needed to be in just the right place, as it always is with every mission they partake.

The Boss’ phone started vibrating where it was left on the man’s desk, and Ives didn’t react beyond a glance at its direction. An incoming call, it seemed; the caller ID was a mix of nonsensical symbols and numbers that translated to one simple world: _Neil_. Ives didn’t sigh, didn’t roll his eyes, although he wanted to very much – as if an instinct developed through close proximity with these two. Instead, he only closed the folder he was looking over, placing it on the coffee table in front of him. The excuse to leave was already on the tip of his tongue as he stood, looking over his Boss to find a grateful grin on the man’s face.

In another circumstance, Ives probably wouldn't have been so compliant; their mission needed their utmost attention, after all. Now, though, they’ve been holed up in this office for the better part of the day, enough that the confinement of it was starting to feel a bit too claustrophobic. They both needed a break, and this was as good of an excuse to take one as any.

With that in mind, Ives said his excuse and turned to leave just as the Boss hit answer on his call. The door was so close in sight that Ives could almost taste the freedom behind it, but alas, the universe had different plans for him. For the Boss and Neil as well, it seemed. With only one step away from the freedom Ives was itching for, the tone of the Boss’ voice changed. It was sudden enough of a shift that Ives halted right in place and strained his ears to listen.

“You’re not Neil,” the Boss said, voice frighteningly steady. If Ives had been any less of an agent – of a _man_ – it would have been enough to send a shudder creeping down his spine. As it was, however, he only whipped around in time to catch the dark expression glooming over the Boss’ face.

“Right,” the Boss continued, after a short moment of silence, listening to whoever was talking on the other side. He took the phone off his ear and pressed on the speaker button, allowing Ives into the conversation as well. Ives accepted the implicit order with a few quiet steps towards the Boss’ desk, stopping just in time for the man’s question of: “Who am I talking to, then?”

_ “That’s something you have to figure out for yourself, I’m afraid,” _ the caller replied, voice steady to match the Boss’, though with much less murderous intent. _“For right now, I will only tell you what I want.”_

“Oh? Well, go ahead then, stranger.” There was a lilt to his voice that to a, well, _stranger_ might've sound like enthusiasm, something like placation. Ives knew better, though; knew enough to realize the Boss was only playing a role he’s long mastered – the typical, easy-going protagonist of the story. That must be saying a lot about the stranger in question, Ives thought.

_ “I’d like a trade,” _ responded the stranger, easy and steady still, mismatching with the mood on this side of the call. _“It’s simple, really. You give me something in your possession, and I’ll return the favor with what—oh, excuse me,_ who _—I’m holding right now.”_

“Hm,” the Boss said in faux thoughtfulness. “And what is it, exactly, that you wish me to trade?”

_ “An algorithm,”  _ the stranger – the _antagonist_ , as it turned out – replied curtly.

The Boss frowned, though his reply came out oblivious: “Okay? What kind of algorithm?”

_ “The kind that’s known as plutonium.” _

“I’m pretty sure that’s a chemical element, stranger, not an algorithm.”

_ “Oh, don't play coy with me now, dear  _ protagonist _. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”_

_ That _ was more than enough to give both the Boss and Ives a pause. They looked at each other, finding only bewilderment in the other’s eyes. If it was only a guess, coming from the antagonist, then it was too good of one, too _specific._ Sure, the Boss was better known as such, but he didn’t exactly go around introducing himself as the protagonist of the story – not to anyone who would remain to do a retelling, that is. So, it sure felt like a bucket of cold water being dumped on them both to hear such term coming so smoothly out of an antagonist’s mouth.

The Boss, however, didn’t let it faze him. He pulled back his composure quickly – as he always did, something Ives always admired about him – and doubling down further on his bluff. “No, I really don’t.”

_ “Hm,”  _ the antagonist intoned, sounding amused rather than impatient. There was a pause where Ives could tell that the antagonist was thinking – _scheming_. When they returned, they did so with an offer, voice the same unaffected tone as they said, _“Let me give you a clue, then.”_

‘Clue’, as it turned out, came in three parts that happened in consequent order to each other:

First, there was a sound of tape being ripped off, accompanied by a groan at the force of it. It worked to help Ives’ mind (and the Boss’ too, no doubt) paint up the scene: a closed confinement with brick foundation (by the echoing bouncing through the speaker), with more than one antagonist, all military trained (by the distinct sound of combat boots on cement). Neil was placed in the middle of them all, and with his mouth now free, he spoke up, an insolent, “Look, I already told you. I don’t know—” that was cut off with...

Second, a gunshot. It came booming through the phone’s speakers, loud enough to make Ives cringe, although only internally. It had come from behind too, Ives could tell, by the way it took Neil by surprise, words trailing off into a painful hiss as the man tried to contain his own suffering. Then, there was an audible thud, and...

Third, screaming. Deafening, _agonizing_ screaming that had Ives curling his hands into fists, eyes caught on the Boss’ fingers around his phone, holding it in a grip so tight that Ives half-expected for the metal to bend. The scream dragged on – and Ives could see the scene in his head, of an antagonist pressing on the wound they just inflicted, drawing such distressing sound out of Neil just to gain a reaction.

And, that seemed to be goal they’ve managed to accomplish. Ives shifted his eyes to the Boss’ face to find nothing more than a mask of neutrality, of the same iron-clad self-control that Ives was mirroring. Ives knew better, as already stated; so he knew, just like himself, underneath it all was a vat of boiling rage, of furious hellfire ready for an order to break lose and cause destruction.

The fire cackled on as the scream was abruptly cut off – with the other line being taken off speakerphone, maybe – replaced with the antagonist’s voice, nonchalant as if they hadn’t just put a bullet through someone, saying, _“Was that enough of a clue for you, or should I offer more?”_

“I’m starting to see it, yeah,” the Boss said, breaths coming in and out with a controlled rhythm.

_ “How wondrous. Now, how about that trade, hm?” _

“I don’t know. Seems too much of a price, in exchange for just one man,” the Boss replied, the faux uncertainty betraying the internal turmoil Ives could see clearly on his face. In another company, he would have worked harder to hide it, but Ives was an exception. There was no need for pretenses with him; with how much he already knew.

_ “Oh, but he isn’t just  _ any _man now, is he,_ beloved _?”_

Once again, too specific, too meaningful to be just a guess. The Boss agreed, with how sharp his eyes were getting, how much malicious intent they were holding underneath the brown coloring. Ives looked too his feet, sparing himself a moment from such intense gaze, and wondered to himself how this had come to be. He wondered, if there was a leak – which was something they needed to figure out quick – or if this antagonist, in particular, just possessed _that_ good of an intel on them. Whatever it was, they fucked up, but now was not the time to place blames. Ives reminded himself of that as he forced his focus back on the phone call again.

“You seem to know a lot about me, stranger,” the Boss was saying now, all pretenses dropping as there seemed to be no need, no use for them anymore. “Care to level the playfield?”

_ “I already said, didn’t I? I’ll only tell you what I want. The rest, you can ask your esteemed agents to help you figure out. Or, well, there is always your imagination to rely on.” _ Their words were underlined with a muffled scream, no less agonizing than before.

The grip on the Boss’ phone only tightened, as if it was grounding him to not drift too far into his own fury. He kept his voice steady still as he feigned – or, at least, Ives _hoped_ he was feigning – compliance, discussing the details of the hand-off with the antagonist who’d caused so much pain to the man he loved.

Once it was done, they were given one very clear consensus: _“One hour, is all you get. A second later, and he dies.”_

There was too long of a silence once the call came to an end. It was thick and unforgiving, choking them like angry claws around their throats and lungs. Time was ticking down on them, but still, they needed a moment to take it all in; to truly work through, for themselves first, what the fuck just happened.

*

Then, it continued, quite predictably, with understanding.

Ives stood stock-still in place in front of the Boss’ desk, awaiting an order as he counted his breaths. It came, eventually – after the tenth count in Ives’ head – loud and clear, with absolute resolution: “We’re getting him back.”

Ives didn’t protest, couldn’t find it in himself to. He might never be as close to Neil as the Boss was, but they were friends – or, well, close enough to that, at least – and it was never nice to have one of theirs taken like this.

“I’ll get a team to take care—”

“No,” the Boss interrupted, definite. “ _We’re_ getting him back. A team will assist us, but I’ll be running points. You can join me if you’d like, Sergeant.”

It sounded like a request, but his voice left no room for refusal. Ives got it, of course, he truly did. It was the Boss’ _beloved_ they were talking about, so he did; he got it. However, their own mission still needed work; their own time running out as well. He shifted his eyes down to the blueprint on the Boss’ desk, reminding him of that very fact.

The Boss caught the meaning easily – a built-in instinct with any Tenet agent: to understand more than what was being spoken. However, it seemed he’d made up his mind, voice determined as he said: “It can wait. This won’t take long.”

Ives didn’t doubt that – they were only given one hour, after all. And, truly, he didn’t doubt the Boss' decisions – he never did and probably never will. The man wouldn’t be sitting where he was, if he didn’t know what he was doing, if he wasn’t totally ascertain of it. Absently, Ives wondered if the Boss already knew that this would happen. How horrible, it must be, to know of a loved one’s suffering and not being able to prevent it, or so much as warn them about it. (Ives would learn, later on, that the Boss _did_ know, and that this wasn’t the _worst_ secret he had to keep, regarding the man he loved.)

In the end, Ives only nodded, taking out his phone to call Wheeler. The Commander picked up on the second ring, listening intently as Ives repeated the mission details to her.

It took them longer than they would’ve liked to gather everything they needed to get Neil out. On the antagonist – the one in charge, that is – there was barely anything to find, but that didn’t seem to matter. To Ives, at least. She was just one more to add to the list of obsessive, radical, and borderline unstable antagonists that they had to deal with on a regular basis. This one just happened to be perceptive and/or resourceful enough to catch onto something that most – so far – hadn't. 

The Boss and Neil’s relationship was only known by a handful of top-ranked agents, Ives and Wheeler included. Lord knew this profession didn’t allow room for such thing to be anything more than a well-kept secret – one that wasn’t leaked from within, after a concise but in-depth interrogating session lead by the Boss while the rescue team was preparing for their mission.

Ives stood on the other side of the two-way glass panel after his own turn, and wondered how it might have been spotted. Hell, he only came to realization after he caught the two in, cliché as it was, a supply closet. So, really, what was it?

Was it the longing gaze that that lingered for too long? Was it the quiet exchange of tender words that wasn’t as quiet as they’d thought? Was it a passing touch that was jam-packed with so much underlying meaning that even a complete stranger couldn’t miss?

These were things Ives only knew to spot _after_ his realization, but well, the antagonist had been an exemplary agent, according to her personnel files – what little left of it, that is. Ives, once again, tried hard not to place blames, knowing it was of no help – no matter how careful, how _paranoid_ they all were; some things simply slipped through the cracks. The best they could do now was mending said cracks, to prevent any further leakage.

The time to go was exactly eight minutes before the hour was up. The rescue team was already in place, coming close to the building where Neil was held at. Their job was quite simple: infiltrate, neutralize, and retrieve.

Ives and the Boss stayed behind at base, watching the whole thing play out through the unit’s bodycam feed. Ives knew the Boss was itching to be out there with the rest of the team, but he was needed – as was Ives – for their own mission. They couldn’t be in anything but top condition for it, so this was the closest they could be to this operation. The unit – inverted and non-inverted alike – tasked for it was made up of experienced agents, led by none other than Commander Wheeler herself. Ives had to repeat this fact more times than he cared to mention, just to help ease the stress on the Boss’ face.

The team got through the first two stages with great ease, working in tandem with their inverted counterpart. There were a few complications along the way, but nothing they couldn’t quickly sort out, before they reached the final stage.

They broke into an empty – as painted in Ives’ head – brick-built room, sparse of any furniture except for the single chair Neil was tied to. He was barely conscious, half-naked and bloody from all the open wounds on his torso. An antagonist was crouching behind him, with a gun held at his temple.

Ives recognized her in an instance, and a glance at the Boss besides him told him that the man did too. It was the very same one whose voice had come so steadily out of the Boss’ speakerphone not one hour ago, demanding more than they would ever give.

“The hour is almost up, my dear protagonist,” she said, in the same tone, knowing full-well the man in question was listening in on this. There was a smirk on her face – hateful and giddy all the same – at such knowledge, so entertained at the turmoil she was deliberately causing for them. “You may be one to go back on your words, but I assure you, I am _not_.”

The Boss brought the radio he was holding up to his lips, at the same time an agent on one of the monitors held out his own. “I understand, but I’m sorry to say, _stranger_ , you’re not getting what you want today.”

“Then he dies,” the antagonist countered, and for once, breaking from her unruffled posture. She was angry, Ives could tell by the ugly twist in her expression. “It’s only right, yes? A dead man returning to where he should’ve been all along, rejoining the teammates he wasn’t able to save all those years ago.” She pressed her lips close to Neil’s ear, keeping her voice loud, still, enough to be caught over the radio. “Say goodbye now, Neil. Your time is finally up.”

Through the monitors, Ives saw the agents aim their weapon, knowing that they were just itching to pull on the trigger. Still, the Boss wasn’t giving the order, and they couldn’t shoot with Neil in the crosshair, with the antagonist still having her gun trained against his temple like that.

_ 0:05, 0:04,  _ Ives felt his blood rush in his veins, heart pounding up a riot in his chest, as he watched the countdown ticking down and down. He knew it was close, but he couldn’t doubt. He never doubted, and now wasn’t the time for it.

_ 0:03, 0:02,  _ Ives – along with everyone else, he was certain – held his breath, feeling the grip he had on the certainty away from doubts slipping ever-so-slightly.

_ 0:01,  _ and things burst into action. Or, well, Neil did. Ives watched intently – not like he could take his eyes away from the screens, anyway – as Neil came alive, tensing, gathering every last bit of his strength, and swung his head back at the antagonist, catching her flat on her cheek. Taken by surprise, she fell back, gun finally pointed away from Neil.

“Now!” the Boss ordered through the comm, just as the countdown ticked down to zero. The agents, in an instant, aimed their weapon down at the fallen figure, and shot away.

Within this breath and the next, the antagonist was dead, and Neil remained alive. He was fine, and they – the Boss, Ives himself, and every agent tasked to the mission – could exhale in relief. Ives chanced a glance at the Boss, to find the man’s expression unchanging, eyes glued on the monitors as the agents worked to untie Neil. He was counting, Ives realized, eyes flicking from this wound on Neil’s body to the next.

Knowing how destructive that road could lead to, Ives moved in to interrupt him, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder to give him something more physical to ground himself to. The Boss snapped out of it, whipping his head around to meet Ives’ eyes.

“It’s alright, mate,” Ives said, pouring as much consolation into his voice as he could muster, “They’ve got him. He’s okay.”

“Does that look _okay_ to you?” the Boss countered, but Ives didn’t back away.

“He will be, once he’s taken back, once they get a doctor on him. All you need to know now is that he’s alive. He’s still with us, instead of with his teammates like that _lunatic_ —” Ives nodded to the monitor as added emphasis, “—had wanted him to be. Okay?”

The Boss stared at Ives, searching for a lie underneath his words. Ives’ gaze never once faltered, offering the certainty he knew the other was needing so very much in this moment.

(If asked, Ives would say that it was because he – and the rest of Tenet – had no need for a self-destructive and guilt-ridden boss. In honesty, Ives never wanted to see a comrade – a _friend_ – in such a state, if he could help it.)

“Okay,” the Boss offered up in the end. His resolution came with a sigh, shoulders relaxing under Ives’ hand.

Ives released the man from his hold, hand returning back to his own side. They stood side by side and watched in complacent silence as the team made their extraction, as they returned to base to report on their successful mission.

*

Eventually, it ended, quite compassionately, with an excuse.

Ives waited until everyone was moving out of the briefing room – to get ready for their mission – to approach the Boss. The man wasn’t meeting Ives’ eyes, instead focusing on gathering up his gear where he’d left it scattered on the table off to the side.

Ives wasn’t in the mood for games and pretenses, though, so he just jumped right into the matter: “Have you gone to see him yet?”

The Boss halted in his movement, though only for a brief moment before picking it back up again, like nothing ever happened. He still wasn’t meeting Ives’ eyes. “He’s still in a coma, so there’s no point.”

“Is he?” Ives quipped, letting out an incredulous huff. “Funny, that. I received a text just this morning from Wheeler, saying that Neil was awake. Funny, really, how she would’ve let me know and not you.”

Ives gave the Boss an unimpressed look when the man finally looked up, finally meeting his eyes for the first time since the conversation – since the whole briefing, in fact – started. The Boss sighed as he shouldered his backpack, leveling Ives with a tired look.

“Funny, yeah,” he said, voice completely void of humor. “I guess it must have slipped her mind. Doesn’t matter, either way. We’re leaving soon, so I’ll just check on him when we get back.”

Ives stared at him, looking for a joke underneath his words but coming up entirely empty. He was being serious – he was leaving without a goodbye. Ives wouldn’t have minded at all – or even cared, really – but this was without precedent, not to mention the circumstance preceding this decision.

(What he did next, if asked, he would say that he just wasn’t looking forward to the moping during the mission, nor the fallout he would no doubt be caught in, the moment they returned. In all honesty, he cared too much about these two idiots – one seemed to be much more than the other – to leave them with an ending like this.)

So, with his unmoving glare set on his idiot of a boss, Ives said, “Go say goodbye to him.”

“What—No—”

“ _Go_ ,” Ives exclaimed, vehement. “We’ve got—” he checked his watch, “—seventeen minutes left before go time. That’s plenty of time to say one simple goodbye.”

“I don’t think—”

“Listen up, _arsehole_. I don’t care about whatever blame you’ve assigned to yourself over what happened, but this isn’t about you. This is about your _beloved_ needing comfort after the _shite_ he’d been put through. So, you’d better get your _protagonist_ arse down to med bay and give him as much of it as possible!”

Honestly, Ives surprised himself with that rant, although not as much as he did the Boss, it seemed. The man stood with his face in complete bewilderment, eyes wide and mouth agape at the seemingly non-refutable order his subordinate just gave him. Ives would've laughed, maybe even taken a picture to show Wheeler later, but he appreciated his job (and his life) too much to risk that chance.

So, he only stood unmoving, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for the Boss to snap out of his shock-inducing daze. Ives checked his watch again, finding the time had ticked down a minute and eleven seconds. He alerted the Boss as much, doubling it as another push to help the man in the right direction.

And, in the right direction, he went. The Boss came back to reality with a smile on his lips – a half-and-half mix of bashfulness and gratitude – hand coming up to scratch behind his neck. “I’ll—” he sighed, conceding finally, “I’ll go, okay? I’ll tell him goodbye before we leave.”

“Good,” Ives said, nodding his approval.

“The team—”

“Will be told that you’re needed as a second pair of eyes on another mission; that you would return in time for _our_ mission,” Ives offered in a neutral tone.

The Boss let out a huff, smiling as he looked up at his subordinate. He nodded in place of his thanks, before hiking his backpack up on his shoulder and walking around Ives to head for the door.

“Oh, and Ives?” the Boss called, and Ives turned to find him at the door with one hand on the handle. There was an amused grin on his lips, paired with a raised eyebrow, as he looked back at Ives.

“Yes, sir?” Ives responded, meeting the Boss’ implicit effort to restore their correct order of rank.

“Try not to speak to me in such a way again, yes?” the Boss said, voice firm despite how amused he looked. “It’s unbecoming, and I can’t imagine what message that would’ve sent, had another agent walked in during it.”

Ives found himself standing up straight in attention, falling back into old military habits at a superior’s order. He didn’t salute, didn’t force his voice to call out a _‘sir, yes, sir!’_ , but it was a close thing.

Instead, he answered calmly, “Of course, sir. I’ll keep it in mind.”

The Boss nodded firmly, before turning the handle and finally leaving the room. Ives could hear his footsteps taking off, running towards the med bay, as the door slowly fell back to an automatic close. Ives smiled to the empty room, glad that his Boss was returning to himself.

Then, he shook himself from his little reverie, from this moment of too much emotions than he’d shown in years, and walked out to find his teammates. He still had an excuse to give them, after all, and there was no point in delaying it.

**Author's Note:**

> if you managed to catch it, _yes_ , i did base the antagonist, albeit loosely, on elementary's moriaty. i absolutely loved her, and to anyone who was also a fan, i hoped i did well with this inspired version of her. 
> 
> per usual, you can find me on my [protagoneil blog](https://iamtheprotagoneil.tumblr.com/). prompt is accepted, although i can only fill it when inspiration hits so please be patient with me.
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated. honestly, i read and check each one; y'all are so precious to me <3


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